


The Wishing Well

by AverillOpal



Category: Otherfaith Religion & Lore
Genre: F/F, Fairy Tales, Romance, fairy tale, fairytale, fairytales - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-31 07:10:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21109913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AverillOpal/pseuds/AverillOpal
Summary: This story is part of a series of very short stories, each one based on the folktales of Grimm’s Fairytales and adapted to the settings, spirits, gods, myths, and themes of the Otherfaith. “The Wishing Well” is an alternate telling of the meeting of the Clarene and the Ophelia, just prior to the Founding of the West. It is loosely inspired by the fairytale called “The Frog Prince”.





	The Wishing Well

A young fairy princess ran deep into the dark forest beyond her home, fleeing her mother — a fairy queen of great and powerful magic. When the princess was small, her mother had doted upon her, feeling as though she were smiling at a smaller version of herself. But as the girl grew in years and into a magic of her own, the queen at last perceived that her child was not the bright and polished mirror she had mistaken her for.

As the seasons changed, the queen grew more and more troubled — it was clear that she could not control her daughter any more than she could control the sun in the sky or the phases of the moon. Day by day, the princess grew ever more strong and stubborn and proud, and the queen could not break her will. This enraged her, and she began to scheme how she might contain this girl whose eyes shone like polished obsidian, with her hair full of twinkling stars, who glowed with beauty like molten gold. She was wild and magnetic and clever, and _would not bend_.

Finally, the queen devised her solution. She would keep the princess within an enchanted box, only releasing her when she wished. At her mother’s mercy, the queen decided, the girl would learn to be obedient. She had shown the box to the young princess, after crafting it out of magic and the bones of sparrows, telling her it was an heirloom and a gift. The princess smiled graciously, but in truth she perceived her mother’s cruel intentions and was determined to defy the queen.

The box was small and intricate, covered in expensive silks and embroidered with the finest gold thread, with powerful magic coursing through the gilded decorations on its surface. Upon its lid was a hole in the shape of a heart, that when the girl’s heart was pressed within it, the bright threads and rich cloths would knit around it and bind it tight, sealing the princess within. Wanting nothing of this prison, the princess waited until the queen was busy in her study. Then she tore away at once and ran from the castle as fast as she could. She did not hesitate to plunge into the deep forests, though she knew them to be dangerous and full of strange creatures.

Yet the princess thought little of these worries until she reached the end of that forest and then kept running. Emerging from the trees, she found herself in a strange wasteland she had never seen before. It was an expanse of golden sand shrouded by a noxious mist. Yet the sky above was empty of clouds and the sun still burned viciously. The princess kept running, pouring all her strength and speed into her escape. But as the day became hotter and hotter, she felt herself begin to tire, and she grew weary and then grew thirsty. Still, she ran on.

When it seemed like the sands were endless and the dizziness would overcome her at last, the land transformed into a swamp of wavering grasses, murky water, and pale twisted trees rising in the mist. And when it seemed like the sun glaring down on her couldn’t get any more painful, the harsh light disappeared; there was only a hazy moon in its place.

Even knowing she was in a dangerous place, the princess ventured further, her hooves sloshing through the thick mud and green-hued water. If she died there, she thought, it would still be better than being locked in a box.

Trudging through the swamp, the princess was so thirsty and exhausted that when the swamp finally opened up into a clearing of earth and green grasses, she collapsed to the ground.

When she had caught her breath, she looked at her surroundings, and her eyes grew wide to behold a wishing well. It was only a few feet before her, though it looked ancient and long-abandoned. Deep cracks splintered the stones of its base, and moss and mildew had settled into the wood. Even though she knew it could be dangerous, the princess yearned so desperately for a drink of water that she was willing to approach the well.

The princess found the pail and slowly lowered it into the dark of the well as the rusted metal creaked under her grasp. When she raised it, she was dismayed to find that there was no water within. Instead the pail was filled with iridescent pearls that sparkled in the scarce moonlight.

With a sigh, the princess emptied the pail back into the well, and lowered it again, this time reaching deeper into the well. When she raised the pail, she was again distressed. Inside the pail were many coins of silver, which shone brightly under the moon overhead. But alas, there was still no water.

The princess decided to try one last time. And after that, if she died of thirst and exhaustion, that would be alright. It was _still_ better than a prison in a box. She took a breath in and lowered the pail once again, sending it even deeper into the darkness within the well.

When she brought it up at last, devastation seized her again. The pail contained only an oily black sludge — so foul that even the moon itself did not dare shine upon it. There was no water at all. The Princess resigned herself to her fate, and began to weep as she leaned over the well. As she wept, her tears fell into the pail and mixed with the dark liquid within.

As the princess despaired her fate, she was astonished to see the pail suddenly descend by itself, back down into the well. In shock, she fell backward onto the ground.

Then a figure emerged from the well like a phantom — but she was a fairy cloaked in shadow, wearing heavy cloths the color of a sapphire on a moonless night. The fabric hid her face and her form, yet the princess could perceive the trails of tears upon the fairy’s face, and she could see the eyes that contained numberless eternities spiraling into the abyss. In that instant, the princess felt like she couldn’t breathe.

Addressing the princess, the fairy of the well held out one hand and asked, “What is your wish?”

Stunned, the princess replied: “I– I desire only a drink of water from your well, good spirit.”

The fairy of the well nodded once, almost imperceptibly. “And what are you willing to lose?” she asked.

The princess replied mournfully, “I have nothing to give but my broken crown, my lost gold, and my heart full of sorrows.”

The fairy of the well nodded again, then said: “O princess, keep thy broken crown, and thou shall see it mended. Take thy losses and sow them, and thou shall reap true wealth. But I shall keep thy heart with all its sorrows, and thou shall have mine in its stead. Thus, any of my waters — be they deep or shallow — they shall be thine as well.”

Breathing again, the princess accepted this promise and the fairy of the well held out to her a silver cup. It was full of the clearest, purest water the princess had ever seen, and she felt fully restored after a single sip. In joy and in gratitude, the princess looked upon the well-keeper and fell deeply in love with the fairy who had already fallen in love with her.

It was then that she knew she was free, in giving her heart rather than having it stolen and locked away. And wherever she might go, she no longer needed to run in fear.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. In this story, I imagine the young Clarene (fairy princess) as having prosthetic legs with hooves, but due to the short format I never stated this explicitly.
> 
> 2\. I have taken some ahistorical liberties with the grammar of the archaic language that the Ophelia (well-keeper) uses to pronounce the terms of the “deal.” I see her archaic dialogue as a form of magic pact and as a prophecy. But I also intended it as a reference to the use of certain pronouns to address royalty and to address deities, which implies that in this story the Ophelia is already aware of some major aspects of the Clarene’s future.


End file.
